


Emerald

by ChemiToo



Series: Stoneset [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, F/M, Kingdom of Clubs, Russia is not a good dude in this fic I'm sorry, unenthusiastic sexytimes...sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemiToo/pseuds/ChemiToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to be like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emerald

She was supposed to be happy beside him, her king.

She was supposed to be a Queen, regal and strong.

She was supposed to be happy.

She was supposed to love him.

She was forced to lie.

She turned away as his hands traced the curves of her breasts, his thumbs making circles along her nipples and, to her great shame, sending shivers down her spine. She chose to stare at the window instead, at the emerald green curtains drawn closed to block out the night; the malleable walls of her prison, her tomb.

She stifled a whimper as his tongue joined his hands, tracing wet lines across her exposed flesh as he murmured softly to her. His words were meant to entice, to seduce, but within her they only aroused anger. It gnawed at the pit of her stomach, growing in intensity as he moved lower, tracing the flat plane of her stomach with his palms and sliding them up her sides. She trembled, but it was not from arousal.

It was from rage.

But this man was her husband. The most powerful in the Kingdom of Clubs, destined by fate to be her spouse and for her to stand faithfully by his side.

She had been twelve when it had been discovered that she was to be the next Queen. She had been taken to the Winter Palace, emerald green cupolas flashing in the cold sunlight above her as she had ascended the pale green steps. The King awaited her, tall and regal in his long emerald cloak and soft ecru coat. His fur hat was perched upon his head at an impossible angle, the same jade green as the fringe of his coat amid pale brown hair.

He had smiled, bowing respectfully before her as she had stood in frozen awe.

"Welcome, Elizabeta," he had greeted in a low, rumbly voice that at the time had made her shiver, "It is good to meet you,"

She hadn't been able to answer, stunned into silence. A chill wind had passed by, ruffling his hair and billowing his cloak out behind him. The cold hadn't seemed to faze him at all, violet eyes twinkling in what she had assumed was kindness as he had smiled. She had shivered violently as the wind passed right through her coat and into her back.

"Are you cold?" he had asked, not waiting for her answer before stooping forward and wrapping his cloak around her.

She had looked up at him in shock, clutching the cloak around her as he stood and bowed to her once again.

"I am Ivan," he introduced with a regal swoop of his arm, "And we are to be wed in a few years, when you come of age, of course," he had said with a smile, "I am a very lucky man. Do you have any questions for me?"

"...yes," she had squeaked, tugging the cloak up to her chin as she looked up into his eyes, "Can I go home now?"

He had chuckled, dismissing his courtesan's comments about her being rude or ungrateful or whatever else they were saying as he had walked her back down the steps to where her family anxiously awaited. He had given her the cloak, an engagement gift for the promise of her becoming his bride.

And it hadn't stopped with the cloak. Item after item had been sent to her home, dazzling jewels and delicate trinkets in every shape and size she could imagine, but always green. It seemed that the King's very world was steeped in hues of jade and beryl, of greens she had never before seen. They lined the shelves of her room, made her friends jealous and her mother so very proud. Some of them even glittered in the darkness, singing songs to her to lull her to sleep. They had been comforting at first, but...

She gasped as he positioned himself between her thighs, holding her firmly by the crests of her hips and tasting her, slow and agonizing. She would not praise him. She would _not_.

But, if she closed her eyes, she could see someone else. Vibrant, jewel-like eyes and dark hair, sweeping up into an elegant curl. Soft hands and porcelain skin, marred only by a single beauty mark beneath his eye. Such skilled hands; a musician's hands.

"Elizabeta..." he crooned as he teased and lapped. She felt her body respond, hips thrusting upward in approval as a low moan escaped her lips. Yes, she could pretend. Her praise was not for him, but for _him_.

A strangled cry of desperation erupted from her throat as he discovered the place where her need was building, steady and hot like wildfire as he teased and teased...

Her fingers found purchase in his hair as his hands clutched and rubbed at her thighs.

Oh, how Roderich _loved_ her thighs.

She threw her head back and screamed, primal and wanton as she felt her muscles clenching, toes curling as he brought her to the verge of--

She whimpered in frustration as the divine pressure was suddenly released. She cracked her eyes open, meeting a pair of dark, violet-tinged ones.

"Elizabeta, my love," he said roughly as he climbed over her, leaning down to capture her lips with his own. She melted into it, imagining her fingers tangling in dark brunette tresses, trailing down slender shoulders. He pulled away from her, leaving her breathless.

"Darling, look at me, will you?" he ordered. Though his voice was soft, she had learned better.

The King of Clubs was not one to be trifled with, not requiring the raising of his voice to make his enemies tremble at his feet. It had been terrifying, watching him address the spies from Diamonds. They had been caught sneaking through the borders, trying to gather information shortly after her coronation. Clubs and Diamonds had been on tentative terms at best for decades, a peace maintained through intimidation and threats of war. No one could stand against Ivan in battle, she was convinced of that. Instead of a beating heart, she was certain her husband housed an emerald. Cold, lifeless, and glinting ever so wickedly.

"Elizabeta," he warned.

She reluctantly obeyed, looking up at him as she tried to suppress the hatred welling up within her. He was smiling, but that meant little. She had seen what he was capable of with a grin plastered to his face, the brutality...

"Is something wrong?" he asked silkily, reaching out and stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. She trembled, swallowing thickly.

"No," she squeaked, chewing on her lower lip as Ivan studied her. God, those eyes. She couldn't decipher them, not even after years of marriage.

"You never want to look at me lately," he reasoned as he tilted his head in thought, "You used to. Is something troubling you?"

She paused.

Yes, she had looked at him before. She had _wanted_ to look at him, and for him to look at her on their wedding bed where he had made her into his wife, taken her again and again and it had been _good_. She relished the feeling of his large hands all over her skin, the feeling of him around and within her making her head spin as she had proudly proclaimed his name to their empty bedchamber. He had made her more than just his wife--he had made her into a woman. A _Queen_.

But then she began noticing things. Odd behaviors, cruel and calculating as he administered to his duties and his subjects. He was not the beloved ruler she had taken him for. The people followed him not out of love, but out of fear.

They were terrified of him.

And so was she.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

Ivan blinked, a small smirk gracing his face.

"Oh? What for?" he asked, bending down to nuzzle her neck. She moaned loudly, the spark of arousal between her legs becoming too great to ignore.

"Ivan," she forced herself to whisper, " _Please_ ,"

The King kissed her deeply, positioning himself and pushing inside. She arched her back and cried out in approval, moving in rhythm with him as he rocked, throwing her arms over her head. She buried her face into her pillow, stifling her cries.

Roderich was the one hovering over her, his slender fingers clutching the sheets beside her as he moved. He was like a dancer, graceful and powerful as the light drifted in-between the trees. He was attentive, listening and trying his best to please her as she rode the tidal wave to completion.

It was close, now. The pressure mounted, steadily growing higher and higher--

She panted heavily as the pillow was forced away from her open mouth.

"Darling, I want to hear you," he whispered into her ear, breath hot against her flesh as he plunged faster with an obscene grunt.

She was already gone, lost in a haze of ecstasy as she felt it, the dam breaking and all sensation flooding her as she cried out his name, raspy and wild into the night.

He followed shortly after, but he was certainly not happy about it.

He pulled out of her with a snarl, rolling over and grasping her with strong, hard arms. He drew her onto his chest, directly over his cold, dead heart.

She didn't dare say a thing, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible as she felt the pleasure ebbing and the panic starting to swell.

The name she had cried was not "Ivan."

* * *

She awoke the next morning in bed, completely exposed. Sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating her fair skin. She quickly gathered the sheets and tugged them tightly around herself, wincing in pain. Ivan was not by any means small, nor was he gentle. She had liked it, once. Now it only served to remind her of--

Oh God.

She jumped out of bed and hurriedly threw on her robe.

Roderich.

She had to find Roderich.

She took off down the corridor, bare feet slapping against cold jade stone as she ran. Many servants tried to stop her, but she was too fast for them. She was eventually thwarted by a heavy wooden door.

"Your Majesty, please stop!" one of the servants cried, clutching her around the middle in an attempt to pry her from the door handle, "You cannot go out dressed like that!" she had cried as Elizabeta reared her fist back and hit her square between the eyes. The maid hit the floor instantly, crumpled into an emerald-green heap.

She paid her no heed, throwing the door open and sprinting out into the palace gardens. The Jack of Clubs loved it there, even in the dead of winter. He said it helped soothe his frazzled nerves.

But Roderich wasn't there.

Ivan stood in silence, staring up at the frozen fountain with a small smile on his lips. She shivered violently as he turned toward her.

"Ah, Elizabeta, good morning. Come here," he said as he gestured, the slightest flick of his fingers in his direction.

She slowly obeyed, pulling her robe up to her chin as she stepped out onto the icy path. Ivan returned his attention to the fountain, grinning up at the glinting shards of ice. They fell delicately, like intricate crystals...or knives.

"What brings you out here?" he asked innocently, tilting his head and turning back toward her, "It is quite cold to be wandering around in your robe, is it not?"

She remained silent.

"Or, perhaps you were looking for someone?" he asked with the slightest inflection in his tone.

Elizabeta's stomach churned.

She _knew_ that tone.

"If you have just woken up, you probably have not heard the news," he continued with a sigh, his breath emerging in delicate, icy wisps, "Quite a tragedy, really,"

Her blood ran cold.

"The Kingdom of Clubs has lost a most valuable man. A man who truly loved his kingdom. Who was truly...loyal," he spat the last word out like a curse, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes as he looked down at her. The unnerving smile remained plastered to his face, but it never touched those eyes.

"Pity. It would appear that he slipped in the gardens earlier this morning," he drawled on, looking down at the basin of the fountain and waving a hand nonchalantly, "At least that's what the coroner said,"

"Who," she growled through clenched teeth, "are you _talking_ about?"

"Ah, forgive me. I am referring, of course, to Sir Roderich Edelstein. Our very own Jack of Clubs? I do believe you are familiar with him," Ivan said brightly, that smile broadening as he watched her eyes widen.

"He must have fallen very early in the morning, sometime before sunrise. They were unable to resuscitate him, what with the blood loss and all--" he continued.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" she shrieked as she pointed a trembling finger at him. Her stomach was in knots, her heart racing.

"Hmm?" Ivan mocked with a delicate tilt of his head, "Oh, my dearest, you are clearly mistaken. For how could I have done such a thing when I was with you until after sunrise? You know that I never rise before then,"

"I KNOW you did it!" she cried, launching herself at him and pummeling him with her frozen fists. It was as if she was attacking a wall, his flesh unyielding as stone.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" she sobbed as tears ran down her cheeks, "YOU BASTARD, YOU KILLED HIM!"

"No, my Darling," Ivan said lowly as he bent down, mouth beside her ear, " _You_ did,"

She fell to her knees, mouth agape in horror as she screamed, tugging at her hair and slamming her fists onto the ground.

The door opened from behind her, followed by the sound of voices she could barely perceive above her own shrieks.

Save for one:

"My wife is very distraught. Please send her back to bed, perhaps give her something to help her sleep. She is clearly hysterical at the moment and no doubt could use the rest,"

"I HATE YOU!" she cried as she was pulled to her feet and dragged down the hallway, flailing about in fury. She managed to break free, her robe left behind in the hands of one of the maidservants as she dashed forward and landed a blow to the side of Ivan's face.

He blinked, surprised, then _laughed_.

She glared up at him defiantly, teeth bared. He hadn't even _flinched_.

"Ah, my Elizabeta, I am _such_ a lucky man," he growled as his eyes hungrily looked her over. He lunged forward and grabbed hold of her chin, forcing their lips together as she clawed at him, kicking and shaking her head furiously.

He released her into the care of her servants, who immediately tried to put her robe back onto her.

"Ah, here," Ivan said sweetly, taking off his emerald green cloak and handing it to one of them, "She can warm herself with this,"

She screamed wordlessly as she was dragged down the hallway, as a pinprick silently penetrated her skin.

"It's all right now, My Lady," one of them said as they set her into bed, wrapped in the cloak as the world began to grow hazy. She couldn't move, limbs heavy.

"Everything will be better when you wake up," another one reassured her with a smile.

She wanted to scream.

But she couldn't.


End file.
